The Drowning of John Watson
by She.Who.Walks.Alone.9
Summary: This is my take on BBC Sherlock's The Final Problem from John's perspective. What would happen if Sherlock was just five minutes late in saving John Watson from drowning in the well?
1. Chapter 1

**What's up everybody! Well, the new season of Sherlock has arrived!...Which, of course, means more fanfictions.(Exactly what our fandom needed). So anyhow, the disclaimer: I do not own not profit from BBC's Sherlock.**

 **Also if any of you are fans of Hamilton, there is a reference in here, let's see if you find it. :)**

 **As always, reviews are welcomed, and enjoy the story.**

"Are you there yet?" Sherlock's voice starts John awake and the former responds without thinking.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"John!"

"Yeah."

"Where are you?" Darkness. That's all he could see. He was in a dark room with water reaching his thighs. For a moment, the possibility of a sewer comes to mind but the lack of smell says otherwise.

"I don't know, just woken up. Where are you?"

"In another cell. just spoke to the girl on the plane again. We've been out for hours." John felt guilty at the mention of the girl, he'd forgotten about her.

"She's still out there?"

"Yes. The plane will keep flying until it runs out of fuel. Is Mycroft with you?" John's spirit's flew. If anyone could get him out of here, it would be Mycroft. He strained his eyes against the dark but with no avail.

"I have no idea, I can hardly see anything. Mycroft? Mycroft?"

No response.

"Are you okay?" Came Sherlock's voice. For a moment John was touched at his friend's care.

"Yeah."

"Alright, well, just keep exploring. Tell me anything you can about where you are."

John threw his hands out and walked until he bumped into a wall.

"The walls are rough. They're rock, I guess." He said.

"What are you standing on?" Sherlock prompted.

"Uh...stone I think. But listen, there's about two feet of water." John felt something pull around his foot and his heart sinks at the familiar texture. "Chains. Yeah, my feet are chained up."

He moved his feet around and felt something else. John reached down to feel the ground. "I can feel something. Bones, Sherlock. There're bones in here."

"What kind of bones?" Sherlock's voice was odd, it was hard to place the emotion behind the words.

"Uh, I don't know. Small."

Sherlock whispers something John can't catch. He hears the little girl's voice and Sherlock starts taking to the girl on the plane. John looks up and is surprised to find the dark figure of clouds above. Slowly, they move until the light of the moon illuminates the room.

John's heart sinks when he realized just how wrong he was.

"Sherlock? I'm in a well. That's where I am. I'm in the bottom of a well."

"Why would there be a well in Sherrinford? Why is there a draft?" His friend's voice trails off until John can't hear it anymore.

"Sherlock?" John kneels down to inspect the chains. His hands follow the chain until it stops about two feet from the wall, tightly secured. He pulls on it with no results.

For a second-a brief second- he doubts that Sherlock will ever find this hole. But as soon as the idea comes, he scolds himself. Sherlock has overcome greater obstacles; surely he would find a well. Many have wrongly doubted his friend, and John Watson will be damned is he does so again.

Suddenly a screech echoes across the well, like the sound of a metal door opening.

"Hello, is anyone up there?" John looks up hopefully. Suddenly water starts raining-no, pouring down- into the well.

"Sherlock? Sherlock!" He has to shout to be heard against the roar of the water.

"Sherlock!"

"John."

"Yeah, it's flooding. The well is flooding." John finds comfort in the repetition. He leans against the wall to get a better look of the mechanics up there.

"John, try as hard as possible not to drown."

"What?!"

"I'm going to find you. I am finding you!" John notices his friend sounds stressed and makes an effort to keep his voice calm.

"Well, hurry up please, because I don't have long." John looks up and tries to find some rock to cling on to. There! He starts up the slippery rocks towards a tiny overhand not more than two inches long. As his hand goes up to reach for it, the chain on his foot strains painfully. He looses his balance and falls to the water. He comes spluttering up but something he touched down there peaks his curiosity. Already the water reaches his chest, he takes a deep breath and submerges himself.

John scans his hands on the floor searching for that strange object. His heart quickens when his fingers close around something nauseatingly familiar.

Suddenly, everything clicks into place.

"Sherlock?" He calls out. "Sherlock, there's something you need to know. Sherlock, the bones I found..."

"Yes? They're dog's bones. That's Redbeard."

"Mycroft's been lying to you, to both of us." John's voice was steady, betraying nothing of his inner feelings. "They're not dog's bones. "

He pulls out the human skull from the water. John fights down the nausea that comes when his brain tells him he's holding a child's skull.

John hears the familiar sound of Sherlock's deduction voice. The water was filling the well by the minute, the water lapped his chin now, and he couldn't help but feel a wave of annoyance.

"Is this strictly relevant?" John yells over the noise of the water.

"Yes it is. I'll be with you in a minute."

"Damn it Sherlock!" John tries the chains one more time.

He leans against the wall with his chin up.

 _Sherlock will get me out of here,_ he thinks desperately. _He's clever. Sure, he's failed and disappointed me millions of times but not Rosie. Never Rosie. No, he will not make an orphan of my daughter._

But if I do... If his sister is more than his match? Even the great Sherlock Holmes can be beaten...

John squeezes his eyes against the building heat behind them. The mere thought of leaving his daughter, his beautiful daughter, alone was too horrific to consider.

 _Still_ , a voice whispers bitterly in his head, _he let Mary die._

"No." John says aloud to banish the thought, although his voice is barely heard over the water. "No. It wasn't his fault.

He starts to swim; already, the water's high enough for it to make it impossible to just stand.

"Sherlock." He pants. "Sherlock, listen."

He gets no response but there is something building in his chest that makes him say the words anyway. John wills his voice to be steady and understandable.

"Sherlock, if I don't make it out of here, take care of Rosie. You're a clever man. Don't let her forget who her parents were." He feels the jerk on his leg as he reaches the end of the chain. And the water keeps rising, John tilts his head back and looks up at the moon that seems so far away.

"And Sherlock," John recalls the words he once said before and can't help finding them more than appropriate. "You are the best and wisest man that I have ever known; so yes, of course I forgive you."

"John? John!" Relief floods John as Sherlock's out of breath voice comes in. "I'll be right there. Give me six minutes. Lestrade is coming too."

" _Six minutes_?" John croaks. "Sherlock, I can't-" Water slips down his throat and he coughs.

"John, listen man, I'm almost there. Six minutes."

"Sherlock, there's not enough-" John changes his mind as he takes a deep breath just as the water covers his head.

"John? John! Come on, I'm almost there. Five more minutes." Sherlock's voice begs. John's lungs are already straining against the lack of air. He lets out some bubbles to relieve the pressure.

"Please."

"John!" John Watson reaches up and removed his earpiece. It slips from his hands and floats slowly to the floor.

The last thing Sherlock needs is to hear me drown, John thinks.

 _Be brave, Rosie._

Underwater, everything is so much quieter. His thoughts so much clearer.

Take care of her, Sherlock.

He pictures his friend's face; all the memories they've shared. The thoughts that were once so clear start getting murky until soon there is only one left.

 _I'll see you soon, Mary._


	2. Chapter 2

"...so yes, of course I forgive you."

Sherlock's heart quickens when he hears his friend's voice. Especially that tone.

"John? John!" He asks sharply. He increases his speed; he knows exactly where the old abandoned well is at- just under seven minutes. "I'll be right there. Give me six minutes. Lestrade is coming too."

It's the hesitation that makes him want to stop and analyze everything about John's voice but he forces himself to keep running.

" _Six minutes_? Sherlock, I can't-" John starts coughing and Sherlock runs faster than he ever thought possible. Faster than when he's chasing criminals down London's street, faster than he ever remembers running.

"John, listen. I'm almost there. Six minutes."

The water makes it difficult to hear John and he almost misses when his friend says.

"Sherlock, there's not enough-" His voice gets cut off. For a brief second, Sherlock thinks the signal may have shorted out but he hears water.

He hears the muted sounds that can only mean John is underwater.

"John? John! Come on, I'm almost there. Five more minutes." He jumps over a fallen tree and tries not to think about the silence on the other line.

"Please." He pants. "John!"

All he hears is water.

Sherlock pumps his arms and sprints towards his friend's direction.

He finally arrives at the well and wastes no times tying the rope he brought with him to himself and a nearby tree. The bolt cutter lies next to the well just like his sister said.

As he runs, he takes it and jumps into the well.

The water comes rushing towards him until it is everywhere around Sherlock. Through the light of the moon, he sees John Watson's still body hanging suspended in the water by the chain. The detective swims down and after initial resistance, the chains give away and he drags John towards the light.

He breaks the surface with a gasp.

Artificial lights shine down.

"What are you waiting for!" Sherlock yells at the police. "Let him up."

Sherlock unties the rope from his waist and ties it around John. The police don't waste time and soon John is on solid ground.

A paramedic has already started on chest the compressions by the time Sherlock makes it over.

"Is he responding?" His voice breaks at the end but no one has the guts to point it out. Lestrade is trying to lead him away but the detective shakes him violently off and doesn't tear his eyes off of John. "Come on, surely someone as incompetent as you can-"

Water erupts from John's mouth and the paramedic quickly turns him to the side to expel the liquid.

"John!" Sherlock can't help the cry from escaping.

A little later, John sits on a bench shivering with his friend standing by his side. To any observer, the detective seems to be standing guard over his friend.

"How do you feel?" Sherlock says after a while. John clutches the blanket around him tighter and gives his friend and ironic smile.

"I'm in shock. Look, I've got a blanket."

They look at each other for a moment then the two friends burst into laughter. It is a hysterical sort of sound but to the both of them, it is the best sound they have ever heard.


End file.
